


Conflict of Blood and Bones

by lovelybones28



Category: Mythology
Genre: May touch on various mythological creatures in the asian continent as well in later chapters, Multi, Skeletons, Vampires, Various mythologies to be touched upon, animal realated beasties, european myths, primarily celtic, primarily nordic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 00:39:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10628535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelybones28/pseuds/lovelybones28
Summary: A simple Irish Catholic Farm boy finds himself married to a strong albino viking woman from a nearby settlement, only for their world to crumble at the hands of a selfish Italian after the woman for a more sinister design. But, what happens when the married couple reunite, and find out that the man that tore their lives apart still lives, and still aims to take the woman?





	

Time... Time can be cold and cruel, and also warm and tender. For me, it’s…. Bittersweet. Time holds memories, good and bad in the past. Time can hold serendipity in the present. Time can hold promise and destruction in the future. And right now, I’m standing in an alleyway, for God knows why in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm. Is it typical to blame something like ‘my soul drew me to this place’? Well. I have no other way to describe it, and well. That little ball of light nearly jumped out of my ribcage trying to get me here, as if it was some emergency.

Oh, I…. Neglected to say I was a walking corpse of sorts, huh? I’m not after your brains, and I’m not rotting…. Well, anymore at least. All the fleshy bits were eaten away centuries ago. I should just introduce myself: My name is Conor Doran, and I used to be a living, breathing young man back when much of the western European world had various Viking territories and trade routes that extended rather far. Back then, I was a shepherd on the family farm that laid a good ways from modern-day Dublin, maybe a few leagues. 

 

We were on the very edge of a Viking territory’s border, so, there were times when the group would cause us trouble or lend us a hand, depending on who was in charge, but….  
The person who led the group during the good times was a youthful albino woman with startling blood red eyes that…. Were gentle, almost motherly, but…. Also very sad and tired. She seemed only a little younger than me, at least twenty years of age, was a good head shorter than me with braided silver-white locks that were thick, and yet still reached the small of her back, and a very sturdy, yet still effeminate build…. Though, her hips were definitely best-suited for bearing children. Despite this, she always seemed to have firm control of the men that came with her to bring us supplies or any sheep that strayed. And, all she ever asked in return was any news regarding merchants, our sheep’s wool, or how well our garden was doing. And, shockingly, if we had a good amount of wool sheared, she’d offer our family a pretty bit of gold coin for it raw. We never objected, as it was a bit tough to card and weave the wool within a good amount of time. And at the time I first saw her, I thought it was odd how we didn’t have wolf troubles anymore, but…. I later found out why.

The woman, who I later found out was named Anja Ulfrdatter, was taming the local wolves somehow, and made them as docile as farm dogs…. Granted that you were on her good side. I’ve heard of some ‘holy knights’ going off to fight the ‘heathens’, and only a handful of them returned with horror stories where they said they were attacked not only by the Vikings fiercely, but also by the wolves who seemed to bear an intelligence on par with the warriors they were fighting. And the kicker: none of the wolves were reported to have gotten worse than flesh wounds. By that point, I knew something had to be up. And so, I went to the territory, unarmed of course, and went to investigate.

What did I find?

A whole pack of possibly 25 or more wolves, with only a few with treated flesh wounds, and with Anja in the middle, tending to their needs, and looking motherly again… 

God, that look suited her so well, and even now, remembering that look makes my soul blink….

And also ache.

You see…. We began making a history between us within a short time after that. I became acquainted with her wolves, the families in their little village hidden in the trees, and their culture. Now, I was a catholic, so at first, learning about their polytheism made me feel a bit off, but…. In time, I came to enjoy it, and feel more open. Even though the teachings and moral stories are slightly different, and a bit comical at times, it wasn’t too far from my religion, as far as most morals and warnings go. 

But what I treasure most was what I learned about her. She was adopted by the late chief and chieftess of the village, and was loved by everyone in the village. She was great behind a sword and shield, as well as a needle and thread. And after a few horns of mead, she became a lively dancer, singer and story-teller. Her voice was like that of an angel, warm and sweet in the higher soprano notes, and beautifully haunting in almost tenor level notes. She was also very kind and sisterly to the children in the village, and it was obvious she was their favorite adult to go to to play, receive guidance or kiss a booboo away.

After one particular night of festivities, I…. I managed to steal a kiss from her, and…. I think it was the most perfect thing ever. Well, first kisses aren’t PERFECT in practice, but it FELT perfect, so…. Right. And, as a result, it didn’t take too long for us to be the envy of other couples when we were caught kissing. Naturally, my parents didn’t approve entirely, but they knew I was genuinely happy with her, and they could tell she was happy with me. I was drunk on my love for her, often being mocked for being caught daydreaming about her. 

It was a year before she took me to her home, wanting…. More. Naturally, being catholic, I refused her gently, but after telling her why, she was understanding, and…. She asked me to marry her. Oh, how my heart leapt at that, and warmed me deeply. I know it’s normally the man that proposes, but I was no less happy that she asked first…. If anything, I think I’m happier she asked first than having me fret over asking her to marry me.

Before long, we were wed, consummated, and very happy living on my family’s farm, with her village moved far closer to save travel and increase security for everyone involved. For a year, we lived peacefully, and rather successfully, even, though…. Despite our shared attempts, we were unable to have a child together. And sadly, when we finally did two years later….

He came. 

A pale, richly dressed Italian with an ego about three times as big as his skull came along while Anja and I were sheering the sheep, and demanded MY WIFE to go with him to Italy, as if I wasn’t even there with my band on my finger, and her ring on her finger. She refused outright, and I noticed how tense and angry, and…. Afraid she was. Anja, my fierce Viking wife and wolf tamer was scared of this man. That led me to make a deadly mistake—I confronted him, and told him to get off of my land before I do so myself in a violent fashion. 

Next thing I knew, I was laid out on my back, gasping desperately for air while I distinctly felt something sharp pressing into my lung. My rib was broken, and I could only watch in horror as I saw my pale bride being raised off the ground by her throat, her skin already bruising while our unborn child was torn from her formerly round belly. 

I had blacked out, and when I woke next, I was bound with rope in a kneeling praying position, as if that were some ironic jab, as I watched as my Anja was thrown into a large fire, along with so many of the villagers’ limp bodies…. Then I was next. I was so numb that even as the flames licked and burned my skin and muscle away from my bones, all I felt was defeat, misery, and deep guilt that I had allowed all of this to happen. 

Only centuries later did I wake up in a hole, under an unmarked grave, while a masked woman with a black cat perched on her shoulder watched me. “Ah, now you’re awake, sonny. I was worried you were too apathetic to fulfill the desire weighing heavily on your soul.” She said, and at first, I had no idea what she was talking about, until I felt it—an ugly feeling of pure, unending hatred for the man that had killed my wife, unborn child, and my unofficial family as if he were making a small business deal. 

“You can get revenge, but once you do, your soul will finally feel peace…. Unless, of course, you’re given new reason to stay alive, and use your new strengths.” It was so cryptic at the time, so, so many years ago, and it still puzzles me to this day. Naturally, it took me a long while to reintegrate into society, though I had to have a special amulet that allowed me to walk among the living without incident. And, after that, I began honing my powers, and perfected them to a t so much so that I was able to…. Expend a bit of my energy for more trivial experimentation. I also later learned that the cat the masked woman had was a smaller cat sidhe named Midnight, and after I got the hang of being able to see magical auras, I saw that the feline’s tail was a trailing blue and smoky appendage. Midnight was a curious creature, and if I left my pelvis unguarded, the mischievous thing would try to curl up in it. 

But…. Aside from all of that, my ‘life’ hasn’t been exciting as of late, though, standing here in this alleyway brings a deep curiosity and excitement, as well as dread, to my soul. It was nearly reaching an hour until it happened:

A young woman, having almost glowing white skin and silver hair that was in the ‘undercut’ fashion, an eerily familiar silhouette that was clearly seen in the skin-tight and somewhat revealing blood red dress she wore, and an all too familiar band on her finger, walked into my alleyway with a drunken man that, under closer inspection, seemed to have an association with the local mob. Before I could do or say anything, or even be noticed, the poor cad was pinned to the wall by the woman before her pearly white and hauntingly beautiful fangs plunged into the man’s neck. 

Time passed in a blur as I watched…. I didn’t know how long the moment actually was.

The only thing that was running through my mind was that my soul reunited me with my supposedly dead wife, and. She was a vampire.

But, time seemed to resume at the appropriate pace when she let the body fall to the ground and looked at me, her eyes expressing the same shock and confusion I felt. But, unlike the few ‘sensitive’ mortals that gave me that same look, she didn’t run away, but rather, she warily came over to me, a little blood still on her lips, and dribbling down her chin. 

“….Connor….?” she asked, almost scared that she was seeing a ghost, and, she wouldn’t be too far off the mark, but, tears formed in my sockets and I nodded before tears of her own spilled down her cheeks, and she ran to my side and kissed me as deeply as she could.

Blood tasted gross, but my little wolf was still as sweet and soft as I remember…. Maybe even softer, almost more fragile despite being one of the most complicated and powerful creatures among monster kind. My soul was blinking at a startling rate with an excitement I thought I had lost many centuries ago, and before I knew it…. I was kissing her more deeply, using a bit of my magic to ‘make’ lips to make the task possible, with her pressed as close as possible to my frame. 

Whoever said vampires were cold and lifeless never met my Anja; she was warmer than I was on the colder nights back when we were happily wed, and even now, her body was hot and…. Almost addicting. Granted, I was always addicted to her, but…. I guess I was dead long enough to not know I was going through withdrawals. 

You know…. I always wondered why I loved having her lave her tongue and scrape her teeth at my neck all the time back then…. But, to be fair, she loved, well, loves, it when I bite into her neck, just enough to leave a clear set of teeth marks, yet not bruise. 

I wish I wasn’t a walking skeleton right now.


End file.
